So we went back to the Korean grocery store for lunch this past weekend. It was still pretty spiffy this time though we ended up getting a bit delayed. There was some miscommunication and Connie and Shelley didn't realize we were going there to have lunch. That meant they thought they could dawdle since they had already had breakfast whereas my mom was starving. Not to mention that the place is incredibly crowded right around lunch time. I ended up standing vulture-like near a bunch of occupied tables, waiting for the first sign that someone was finished so I could swoop down and call dibs. It was impossible to get two of them together so once I managed to claim one, I stood guard there while my mom and grandmother found another. Of course, since Connie and Shelley were taking their own sweet damn time, I ended up holding that table for over 20 minutes, snarling at people who wanted to snag chairs or snipe the table out from under me. That didn't put me in the best of moods, but the fried chicken did a lot of fix that.

I have no clue what those Koreans do to fry their chicken but it's fantastic. Everything is crisp on the outside and then moist and yummy on the inside. As far as I'm concerned, it kicks the crap out of your average fried chicken. In addition to that, I also had a bowl of udon from the Japanese place which came with an assortment of fishballs of all shapes and sizes. Frankly, I thought the square ones were tofu until I bit into it.

It even had one of those Naruto Fishcake slices with the red swirl that I'm always seeing in anime but have never had before. I still get an unreasoning little thrill whenever I run across something like this that I've seen on 'tv'. For some reason, this doesn't work with American products though. I wonder if that just makes me a giant weeaboo though I guess I would have to be the non-white version thereof.

Anyway, afterward we walked around the inside of the supermarket though I didn't find anything interesting I really wanted to buy. Luckily though, I did have my camera and it turns out that pork festival thingie was still going on so I was able to snap a shot of that banner.

I just snicker to myself whenever I see this sign. I just love the idea of little korean hunters going out the back to beat a wild boar to death in the middle of suburbia.

I also spent some time going down the aisles looking at the various products. It's always spiffy when naming conventions don't translate over as well as they could.

I've actually had Pucca before, having found the name humorous while I was in an asian grocery store in Chicago. As I recall, it was surprisingly good. I could only remember there being the generic variety of Pucca back then, but I guess they must've add some since then. Everyone loves a good Pucca.

Screw a screw pop. dum de dum dum. Screw a screw pop. Screw it for flavor. Screw a screw pop. Screw some for later.

Ya, I know.

On the way out I also got more Taiyaki, those red bean paste filled fish whozits. I never liked red bean paste as a kid but I find it's growing on me. Either my taste is changing or my weeaboo infection is spreading and reaching some sort of terminal stage.

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Yes, tastes change as you get older. Unbelievably I now like cooked green peppers and will even eat them on their own. And this evening I ate a raw tomato as though it were a pear or peach. I'm turning into my mother! *snirk*

The only sad thing is that since she's dead I can't tell her. By the time my tastes were noticeably changing she was senile. But even then I really hadn't thought about how much what I ate had changed.